AuditionKlok
by Ending Howard
Summary: Who in the world could be as brutal as Dethklok? You might think that no-one can be, but that's where you're wrong . . . meet Becky. Foul language, sexual/suggestive references, and murder. NaToki.
1. Track 00: DethPrologue

So . . . it was true?

Considering the events on previous occasions, he couldn't believe that those little, insignificant words could mean something. At least, not from _that_ man's head, anyway. He was prone to acting.

Three tiny words.

Hardly a sentence.

Yet, they had so much meaning in them.

Eight letters in total.

Even his **own** sentences were longer than that.

Practically every known sentence was longer than those three little words.

To him, the words, "I love you," were the same as "I hate you."


	2. Track 01: DethArctica

The DethCopter was a bit smaller than MordHaus with about a thousand less employees and a hundred less rooms.It was still about the size of a mansion; Even knowing this, absolute boredom set in. Ofdensen was in his office, multi-tasking between the upcoming show, lawsuits, financial situations, et cetera; The employees were shuffling about, guarding the DethCopter; and the band was lingering in the living area, as usual, with nothing to do.

"Can't we throw water--wait, coffee on the fansh? We did that in Norway, and everyone burned to death. _That_ wash aweshome." Murderface suggested, tearing open a hole in the fabric of the couch. Who cared? They could afford all the couches in the world, basically.

William Murderface was probably one of the loneliest of all of Dethklok (this includes the Detharmy). He's completely obsessed with U.S. History for some reason, and collects weapons, which explained why he brought a dagger to the kitchen. Oh, and his name **really** described how he looked. Ew.

"We cant's do's that," Skwisgaar explained. "It's woulds raises the deaths tolls agains." he shook his head, indicating that they weren't to do that, however "brutal" it may be.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf was the Sweedish lead guitarist and also the fastest guitarist in the world. Other than that, he was also a _huge_ man-slut. He would screw anything he got his hands on: from FBL's to MILF's to G-MILF's, he . . . er, "loved" everything. Except men.

Nathan quickly pulled out his tape recorder and whispered "Current death toll," into it, then returned to the topic at hand. "Look," he began. "We need to do something _really_ brutal. Just not death." he explained. He was thinking as the same thing as everyone else: "How is anything except death brutal? Well, except necrophilia." And that second thought was Skwisgaar's.

Nathan Explosion wasn't one for long explanations; in fact, the most he spoke outside of the music would be a paragraph or so per conversation. He was the lead: The vocalist, the singer, the . . . well, boss. Ofdensen didn't really count.

"I have no clue what could brutal-_er_ than the desh of a million ash-holesh," Murderface commented. "Other than the Shivil War."

Toki suddenly jumped up. "I got's it!" he exclaimed. "Glue's thems to the grounds!"

Toki Wartooth was the Norwegian rhythm guitarist, the second fastest guitarist in the world, and sort of the "kid brother" of the band. He could be a bit immature at times, especially when you let him anywhere within a one-mile radius of a full bowl of candy.

"Then we can't git 'em outta our hair," Pickles contradicted. "When we leave, they'll annoy us t' death for a fuckin' autograph, and it'll raise the death toll when they all freeze t' death."

Pickles was . . . well, Pickles. Nobody knew his last name; hell, I don't even think he knew his _own_ last name. Either that, or he hated it. He was simply known as Pickles the Drummer to the world. Okay, so he was a **huge** stoner/alcoholic, but he seemed to be the only one with at least a (i)piece(/i) of a brain in his head.

Either way, the group was completely stumped. They weren't allowed to raise the death toll (**millions** would be attending this concert), and that was what they did best. But then, Pickles came up with an idea:

"What about a guest star?" he suggested. "All those regular douchebag stars do it." Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. "But we's is not normal stars-es," he pointed out. "We's is Dethkloks."

That was true. Dethklok was the biggest band in the world. This **was** a good idea; people would decapitate themselves to play with them.

"What about a normal shivilian?" Murderface suggested. "Then we could kill him." Toki, Pickles, and Skwisgaar nodded in agreement, while Nathan simply sat, thinking the whole thing over. His opinion mattered the most, after all.

"Nat'ans," Toki began, seeing Nathan's focused look. "What's ze deck-is-ee-yuns?"

Nathan glanced up at the group, having made his decision:

"It's a good idea, but . . ." he glanced out at the barren, white, freezing landscape, looking for any kind of life. He returned his gaze to Toki, who was staring at Nathan expectantly.

"Where are we going to find a guest star _here_?"

Nathan was referring to the area they were currently flying over, and also where the concert was being held:

Antarctica.


End file.
